


good enough for you or me

by solipsismlemonade



Series: last call for sin [3]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Anthony Stark - Freeform, Daredevil - Freeform, Iron Man - Freeform, Is that a thing, Light Flirting, M/M, Matt Murdock - Freeform, Matthew Murdock - Freeform, Sandalwood - Freeform, Superior Iron Man, Two Gays, even superior iron man deserves love, give your bf love 2k20, im sorry i just enjoy tags so much, just two dudes being gays, no beta we die like fish, once again i write for the ship no one else ships, smell fic ????, the promised sir sly fic, tony is nice and matt appreciates it, tony stark - Freeform, tw for splinters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solipsismlemonade/pseuds/solipsismlemonade
Summary: “You put sandalwood everywhere,” Matt said as an opening. Not his smartest sentence either, but he was still surprised by the smell of amber and warm wood.
Relationships: Daredevil / Iron Man, Daredevil / Superior Iron Man, Matthew Murdock / Tony Stark
Series: last call for sin [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681792
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	good enough for you or me

Tony Stark was an incredibly careful man. It was one thing to know it and another entirely to come into Stark Tower and find that Tony’s room didn’t smell like his usual obnoxious colognes or the chemicals he put in his hair to keep it black and thick.

Matthew Murdock swung up to Tony’s penthouse easily enough, muscle memory making the trip short and uneventful. He should have been worrying about that – about how familiar it felt to open Tony’s window and slip in – but he wasn’t. Instead, he was thinking about Tony. His voice; the way it resonated in Matt’s chest, rich and filled with charisma and purring charm. His hands, so clever and soft compared to Matt’s. Tony had engineer’s scarring on his palms and the backs of his hands, a boxer’s calluses on the backs of his knuckles. Matt, though, he had defensive scarring all along his wrists and forearms, calluses from batons and grapple lines and punching until Matt was lead-limbed. And that was just general wear and tear, not counting the scars from being the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Matt was thinking in particular about the way Tony’s hair was messy and unruly in the quiet hours of the morning and the neat, spare line of his jaw and neck.

The windows were still warm from the setting sun, smelling of New York wind (sea salt and pollution; fast food and window-cleaner chemicals). They were smooth and slippery but Matt knew a trick for getting this one open; it jammed, just a little, because the hinges were rusty. It was always half a centimeter or so open. All Matt had to do was give it a good thump with the heel of his palm and slip in to crouch on Tony’s floor, letting the window slide almost-shut behind him.

And then he’d hesitated, because the room smelled nothing like it normally did. The scents were there, under everything else. Tony’s obnoxious orange shampoo, the chemical-dry expensive colognes and aftershaves, steel and engine grease, expensive champagne, and _Tony_. He had a smell Matt could have picked out of a football field, under all the stuff he put on himself. It was just _Tony_ on a chemical level, like a gut-punch.

Matt stayed in his defensive crouch, unsure. There was… sandalwood everywhere. Not underfoot, but Tony had put it in the drawers of his wardrobe and bedside table; a few had even gotten onto the pillows the bed they (sometimes) shared.

It had been a long time since Matt had smelled sandalwood in anything stronger than a passing whiff. It was a little different than he remembered and Matt suspected it was because Tony had probably bought the most quality stuff money could buy. It was Tony, after all. He closed sightless eyes and took a slow, deep breath. The entire room smelled warm and soft and wooden, with a hint of amber spice. Matt felt like he could stay here all day long, just breathing in the smell of it. The chill of the windows pressed against his back and Matt stood, moving on soundless feet to the foot of the bed.

Matt tugged a glove off with his teeth and reached out to touch the bed, letting out an incredulous laugh. He’d even changed the sheets and blanket. Matt could almost hear Tony moving around the room, shuffling things around, muttering half-formed thoughts under his breath… it had to have been in the past two days. Probably just as soon as Matt had left; the smell had had time to soak up the smell of Tony’s cologne and the copper wire he used.

Someone was taking the elevator up; Matt held still and listened, head cocking to the side. Tony. He could hear the sound of his heart, the tinny hum of the arc reactor. Matt only had to wait for him, hand still brushing against the bed sheets. The door opened with a quiet click and Tony made a muffle sound of surprise; he was holding something in one hand and had something in his mouth – a pen? No, a pencil, and his pad in the other hand, along with some kind of tablet. Both gave off the faint buzz of electronics and Stark arc reactor-energy.

“You put sandalwood everywhere,” Matt said as an opening. Not his smartest sentence either, but he was still surprised by the smell of amber and warm wood.

“You – I vaguely remember hearing you say you liked the smell of it,” Tony replied after he’d gotten the pencil out of his mouth, rustling as he set the tablet and pad down on the bedside table with a wooden _thunk_. His heartbeat was skyrocketing. He was unsure; Matt could hear it in the way he shifted and the tenor of his voice. “I mean, if it’s a problem for you we can get rid of it, I’m sure there’s a way to –”

Matt took two steps forward, rested his hands on Tony’s elbows. They were close enough to touch, now. Tony stiffened and fell silent, heart skipping a beat.

“Tony,” Matt murmured, then again because he liked the way Tony shifted when Matt said his name. He was wearing the Clive Christian perfume that drove Matt wild, something full of herbs and citrus. “It smells amazing. Thank you.”

“Well.” Tony let his hands wander to Matt’s hips, restless, then traced up the line of his sides to his shoulders. He tilted his head and Matt could almost _hear_ the cocky grin that had to be on his face right then. “I’m glad I didn’t totally mess up our relationship, then. I think I got a splinter from getting the shavings into the closet, actually. My palms have been itching all day. D’you think I’m allergic?”

“Do you have a pair of tweezers?” Matt asked, taking a hand at random, letting Tony’s other hand drift up to rest on his cheekbone. “I could get it out.”

“Matty, honey, I’m sure you could, but you’re holding the wrong hand,” Tony said, barely managing to stifle a snicker; Matt could hear the throaty little sound Tony made when he was trying not to laugh, somewhere between a snort and a huff. Matt made a face and Tony did snicker this time, low in his chest, and Matt grabbed his other hand, turning it over to run his fingers over the palm.

“Tweezers?” Matt asked, tilting his head.

“Mask off first. That _tickles_ ,” Tony said, making a move to snatch his hand back; Matt foiled him by tightening his fingers around Tony’s wrist, leaning forward to steal a kiss. For the thousandth time, he had a second’s jolt of surprise at Tony’s goatee, prickly and soft.

“Take it off for me?” Matt asked in a murmur, lips curling up when he heard the hitch in Tony’s breath.

Tony let out a breath, free hand fumbling at the catch at Matt’s jaw. “Yeah. Yeah, mask off. I can do that,” he replied, lips tracing down the line of Matt’s jaw as he pushed the cowl back. “Your hair sticks up in the cutest way when it comes off, you know that?”

“No,” Matt said drily, extending a hand. Tony pressed a pair of tweezers into it and Matt ran his thumb over Tony’s palm again, finding the tiny pinprick of heat that told Matt of a splinter. He closed his eyes, as if that would help him focus, and pulled the splinter out after a moment’s hesitation. Tony shifted and Matt could tell from the angle he was at (the echo of his breathing, the play of heat against the side of his face, the smell of neroli and jamine) that he was watching Matt.

“That is incredibly sexy. You know, that you can just do that.” Tony slid the flat of his palm along Matt’s wrist and Matt set the tweezers on the bed (soft silk blanket, the rustle of expensive cloth) before he pulled Tony into a sweet, slow kiss.

“Better?” Matt asked against the point of Tony’s jaw, where he’d ended up after a moment of warmth and softness and _Tony_ , like the heart attack that kept on coming.

“Much, thank you,” Tony replied, tapping Matt’s shoulder, which Matt had learned to mean _take the suit off before I pick up the trauma shears_.

**Author's Note:**

> all your love - sir sly
> 
> once again the biggest thank-you to sage, who has the best iron man portrayal in the whole wide universe and if he is ooc in here that is entirely because i cannot fathom how people write tony stark
> 
> my entire search history is "what does sandalwood smell like" "what does clive christian cologne smell like" "what does neroli smell like" "what does -


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